


Twenty-Eleven

by ActOfCynic



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Aliens, Drabble, M/M, Vulcan, Vulcan Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 03:09:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10480770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActOfCynic/pseuds/ActOfCynic
Summary: This was a drabble challenge for Baxssy. Nothing more to add I guess.





	

At Twenty-Eleven, there’s this booth. Some call it the ‘make-out spot’, some call it ‘love nest’, others ‘action-under-wagon’. I call it table 27, at the furthest part of the bar, away from the restrooms, facing the red padded wall on one side and the wall of fame with famous sports players from the year 2011 on the other. It’s well hidden and very much in demand especially on Fridays and Saturdays. The only way you can spot what’s going on in there, at least partly, is to sit on the last bar stool at the right wing of the bar and lean a bit forward, which has been my seat ever since I was a boy and my old man let me sit next to him while he showed off his moves to a young bartender wiping cherry glasses.

On Mondays, Mila and Rebi from the factory order up a few drinks and get lost in that mentioned booth from 1900-2200. On Tuesdays, Sarah and Thani meet there in secret, since Thani’s parents don’t approve interracial contact; they stay up till 2230. On Wednesdays it’s quiz night, no one dares to sneak into the booth 27 while Mrs. Wildner and Mrs. Chalet keep their look-out for any underage, interracial, drunk or simply not swell looking couples nearby; it’s a habit they won’t easily give up on, no one could blame them. Thursdays are reserved for Mr. and Mrs. Yaltat, two Cardassians who travel out a lot, but keep their date night on clock every single Thursday at 2030 ever since I can remember. On Fridays Mila comes back with Rebi, but this time they stay only for two hours before the fight starts and Rebi storms out of the bar with his jacket clutched in his monster hand consisting of seven fingers and two thumbs. Mila usually stays for one more drinks before following him.

On Saturday evening I’m observing the pub while sipping on my cranberry juice, waiting for Mrs. Tameron and Mrs. Kennet to show up for their 2140, but the clock strikes 2200 and they are nowhere to be found. I almost jump down from the stool when a couple of odd looking fellows enter the pub and look around the full joint. Both are wearing wet black jackets and the shorter chap point his thumb towards that particular booth and head on there. They seemed to be kind of in disguise and I appear to be the only one noticing their entry or observe their way across the floor to the furthest part of the bar. As they sit down and take off their cloaks I notice one of them being a Vulcan and the second, shorter one, a Terran; both male, from what I could tell.

They order nothing but talk for a long time. Obviously, I couldn’t understand anything from what they said, watching them from the other side of the room, but I could tell that the Terran male’s emotions skipped from one to the other in a matter of seconds. He finally passed out from exhaustion on the table, his head facing the calm Vulcan. The big hand of the Terran suddenly rose and gently but firmly took his companion’s face, his thumb making circles on his cheek, before the other male placed his own hand on top of the first one, and joined their fingers together. I felt the urge to look away, as it felt so private and so intimate to watch just that, even from where I was sitting, but I didn’t. Their fingers, entangled, now slipped against and past each other and I myself, could almost feel the slight vibration of the room they must have felt as their skin rubbed in the most tender ways against skin like in ecstasy. I finally looked away. I couldn’t take it no more.

And as I did, my eyes passed over Mrs. Tameron and Mrs. Kennet entering the building and heading towards their usual table. I jumped out and my cranberry juices jumped with me. I was on my feet before I could remember what I was doing and with the sophistication of an alien, I quickly jumped over to the booth 27 to look about the sports idols from over two centuries ago. By the corner of my eyes I saw those men’s hands fall down and grab their wet jackets in the same movement. They were gone before anyone noticed them, except for me, as my heart broke a little, as I watched them go.


End file.
